Tomorrow Worlds United
by Dwimor Bispell
Summary: The Autobots and Decepticons arrive on Earth, hunting and battling for the Allspark for brand-new and shocking reasons. Crossover elements with the Ultimate X-Men and Iron Man film universes. Rated K for moderate battle violence and mild language
1. Preface: The Arrival of Giants

**Tomorrow Worlds United**

**:::A Tale for Cybertron:::**

"_You cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war."  
_(Albert Einstein)

**Preface: The Arrival of Giants**

Whenever Bolivar Trask's fleet of gigantic autonomous androids, known with some warped degree of affection by the public as the Sentinels, hovered high in the sky with their tracking beams piercing every inch of New York city in search of those people hiding the mutant X-gene, it is perhaps quite remarkable to note that no fear ever really struck at the heart of the general populace.

Only those who 'harboured' that especial genetic distinction ever looked up into the sky as those three-storey-high killing machines passed by with terror shining bright in their eyes, rooted to the spot by the petrifying inevitability of the awful death that was surely to come. As such, in the days before the Brotherhood of Mutants turned the Sentinels back against _homo sapiens_, it was not uncommon for these people to be spotted, frozen where they stood, by passing humans and called out as mutants – the resultant humiliating onslaught of bottles and bigoted, hateful cries only made it all the easier for the unerringly accurate sensors of the Sentinels to pick out and eliminate those it's unfeeling brain had been programmed to assume to be both hostile and exceptionally dangerous to the public.

Even when the Sentinels landed on the sidewalk, smashing through the concrete beneath their feet, and unleashed rays of energy that incinerated the unresisting _homo superior_ in a fireflash of disintegrating flesh and blood and bone, the public barely even batted their eyelids. The Sentinels were doing their job – protecting the ordinary, decent folks who did not need these dangerous freaks in their lives.

But the same cannot be said for the three-storey-high killing machines that have landed on the streets of New York on this day.

They are not here to protect the ordinary, decent folks.  
Most of the ordinary, decent folks, in fact, are running petrified of the giant walking contraptions of shining steel that have crashed to the ground this day, for they are nothing like the Sentinels. They do not seek out the 'freaks' with indiscriminate brutality – in fact they seem to care very little for anyone, _sapien _or_ superior_, running screaming beneath their feet this day.

Instead they are launching themselves upon each other with deafening mechanical war cries, firing off missiles that detonate against parked cars, billboards, and each other with tremendous force and massive bursts of fire and debris, hurling one another into buildings that partially collapse under their weight in clouds of rising dust and hailstorms of bricks and construction beams... and leaping high into the air and diving forwards onto the ground, and in a whirl of twisting and shifting limbs and extrusions, changing, morphing, _transforming_ before the peoples' very eyes into vehicles they themselves have seen before, and where once there stood the titanic, triangular shape of a silver robot, away flies an F-22 Raptor, the military's most celebrated fighter plane, shooting off into the sky in a trail of white smoke. And where once there was an enormous, ape-like black creature firing off blinding shots of energy from wrist-mounted cannons, there was now a GMC pick-up, charging full-boar back down the street it had come from.

And while the mutants are also fleeing, as scared as anyone else on streets being torn to pieces above their heads, cowering in mesmerised terror as a gigantic construction not unlike a great silver jet but coated all over in alien extrusions, barrels down 5th Avenue towards the speeding figure of a Peterbilt truck resplendent in shining blue and flaming red, it is perhaps not implausible to think that some of those mutants are noting the almost poetic irony of the situation.

But as mankind, who mere weeks ago cheered at the arrival of gigantic walking death machines on their streets, now flee in blind panic before them, it is still of minimal concern to those two figures storming towards each other now.

For all that concerns Optimus Prime of the Autobots, and Megatron of the Decepticons, as they twist out of their alternate forms and collide head-on in a flurry of mechanical fists, is each other's destruction.

To them, everything else at present is arbitrary.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Welcome, one and all, to the preface chapter of Tomorrow Worlds United - a crossover fanfic between the 2007 Transformers movie and Ultimate Marvel comics continuities (with a liberal splash of the 2008 Iron Man movie thrown in for good measure!)

This story is more inspired by the aforementioned continuites than directly set in them, with more than a few liberties being taken with each one. For reference, the story is set immediately after 'The Tomorrow People' story arc that opened the Ultimate X-Men stories, with the point of divergence being the Transformers landing on Earth after those events with brand new motivations.

To find out what those are you shall have to wait until the next chapter, which considering the pace of my writing on this tale should be arriving in very short order! I hope you all enjoy what is to come, all my hailz to you!


	2. Chapter One: Devastating Fifth Avenue

**Chapter One: Devastating Fifth Avenue**

The sound of the impact between the two Transformers as their robotic forms struck each other was loud enough to shatter the windows of the buildings to either side of them, and in the offices facing out upon the battle, the people too entranced by the spectacle before now ran, screaming, for cover as the shards of glass flew in all directions around them, and outside, the two grappling titans were not discriminate in the case of any new carnage they might cause. They rolled and flipped backwards, Megatron's sheer superior weight and size forcing the much smaller Prime to concede for the moment. As the last of the transformative processes finalised themselves and the outer coverings of their alternate forms reformatted into armour plating that shone brightly in the sun, the mighty heads of the two powerful factions recovered from the collision and took each other full-on again, lashing out with fists and kicks and claw slashes, dodging and ducking and weaving through the streets leaving overturned cars and bent lampposts in their thunderous wake, looking for a weak point at which to strike.

It was Prime who found that point first. Optimus ducked from a vicious swipe of Megatron's right arm, transformed into an enormous, spiked silver flail, one of the deadliest weapons he possessed, and the flail soared over the Autobots' head, its killing arc instead striking the corner wall of the nearest building, and in a thunderous cloud of brick and mortar it exploded outwards, the spikes embedding themselves in the support beam and refusing to budge.

Optimus wasted no time in taking the advantage for himself against the now defenceless Decepticon – these openings did not reveal themselves often with the Cybertronian master of warfare. Megatron was exhausted – his power cells depleted and struggling to recharge after his and Starscream's journey to Earth from his home base on Cybertron, and his remaining forces were scattered across the galaxy, unable to assist him at present. The Autobots, meanwhile, had arrived in full strength from nearby Mars, and for the first time in centuries the Decepticon leader was outmatched, outnumbered, and outgunned. Before he could do anything to wrench his flail loose from the support column of the building and defend himself from the enormous, sleek black cannon that Optimus unfurled from a hidden compartment on his back, Prime fired. The Decepticon leader was sent thrashing through the air as the weapons' energy strike caught him full on the right shoulder and hurled him backwards and up, where after a few moments of spinning through the air, he slammed down with an ear-splitting crash through the massive glass edifice of the Apple building.  
Optimus spared only a brief moment's thought upon the people below, either shredded to ribbons by the flying glass or crushed to death under the rubble caused by the crash, before he cleared it from his neural processors. If he did not bring Megatron down now, even more destruction and death would surely be wrought upon the miniscule figures below, running in all directions in blind terror.

In a flash he retracted the cannon and closed the compartment over the top of it, drawing himself up his full and impressive height, clenching his fists in preparation to dive back into the battle again.  
He spoke, as Megatron struggled to extricate himself from the twisted wreckage of the building's entrance, and the voice of Optimus Prime rang out loud and clear to all those peeking out from a safe distance at the two mammoth machines. It was a deep voice, one of such depth and elocution and clarity that it astounded those who heard it – whatever they had expected, that bass voice of confident authority and boldness was not it.  
"I have chased you across half the galaxy, Megatron, and the pursuit is finally at an end today! You shall not lay your hands on what you came here for – the Allspark shall never be yours again!"

Megatron wrenched himself free and upright at last, cold fury burning in his brilliantly red optics that did nothing to hide a clear degree of battle-fatigue, no matter his attempts to conceal it. The razor-sharp rows of shining steel teeth in his mouth ground together, and when he replied, the deep snarling arrogance in his voice was the polar opposite of the calm metallic tongue of Optimus Prime.  
"Big words that your pathetic, feeble frame shan't live up to, Prime!"  
Without warning, he sprang forth.  
"I'll crush you in my hands like an insect!"

With his first jump he planted his steel clawed feet deep into the brick of the nearest office block, and with his second he soared even higher into the air, arms outstretched and ready, his weary frame suddenly full of his last bursts of energy, sailing towards Optimus with murder in his eyes...

_BOOM!!!_

Half a dozen flaring, sun-bright bolts of blue and orange energy rocketed up from behind Optimus, striking the airborne Megatron full on in the chest and blowing pieces of his armour clean off as though it was wet tin-foil. The massive Decepticon writhed in agony from the blows, landing ten feet short of his intended target onto his back with his chestplate sparking and aflame, where he lay, unable to move for the pain ringing like alarm bells through his circuits.  
Optimus stood above him, as collected as ever, and from behind the Autobot leader strode his loyal soldiers, their mounted cannons and blasters still smoking from their hailstorm of attacks.  
Ironhide in particular marched forth in gleeful confidence, his grey and black face grinning broadly and his bright blue optics clearly savouring the sight of the fallen Decepticon, while the ammo chain-feeds on his enormous wrist cannons spun with a trigger-happy relish.  
"Think we should put him out of his misery yet, Jazz?" he asked, his gravelly tones full of amusement. The small, silver Autobot beside him, who had sped up from behind Optimus in the form of a sleek Pontiac Solstice, did nothing to hide his own mirth, pointing his intricate ion blaster directly between Megatron's eyes.  
"Damn right we should Ironhide! What do you say Optimus -" the diminutive Autobot inquired of his leader, his voice an urban drawl, rich and full with his natural charisma; "- Do we waste this Decepticon slime right here and now?"  
A general cry of agreement arose from the other Autobots – Ratchet, the brilliant yellow paint from his Hummer H2 form gleaming in the sun, glared down his nose at the prone Megatron, an attitude of imperious contempt and disgust written all across his face. He raised his shoulder-mounted mini gun, and as Megatron attempted to roll back onto his front and push himself up again, Ratchet emptied a full clip of energy bullets directly into the Decepticon's face, and as they sparked and ricocheted off his helmet and eyes and mouth Megatron collapsed backwards again in agony – at this, the lean, deep yellow and black-striped form of Bumblebee punched the air in earnest glee to see their villainous enemy brought down before their feet.  
"Easy, Jazz, easy. And you cool it as well, Ratchet." Optimus replied, his tone grave and stern. He stepped forward a few paces towards his toppled foe, and his troops raised their weapons and directed them unswervingly at Megatron – even when beaten down and outmatched like this, this was one Transformer who should not ever be underestimated at any time, at any cost. To do so was to all but invite a painful, slow death.

The Autobot leader stood above Megatron, and this time he made no move to deliver a killing blow. Now was the time for a different tack.  
"Megatron." Optimus said slowly, pausing until their blue and red optics locked once again.  
"We cannot let you use the Allspark to bring your plans to bear on Cybertron. We shall not, brother."  
He bent, his smooth, triangular faceplate slowly retracting to show a cybernetic mouth lined with grim compassion, and knelt over Megatron's prone form, where he lay as though attempting to gather the very last iota of his power and failing completely.

"You are tired, brother. And so are we – tired of the centuries of war that have ravaged our home world, and we shall not let that chaos and destruction spread to another world. You can't hope to beat us this day, Megatron."  
His electronic stare into Megatron's optics was as deeply emphatic as any human eye could ever have achieved, as was his next gesture, as he extended his windshield-sized hand towards the fallen Decepticon.

"Come back to us, brother. Answer for your crimes on Cybertron and help with its resurrection to glory once again. Do what you once worked for, all those millennia ago."  
He knew that several of his soldiers held the very idea of extending mercy to Megatron as repugnant; it was a mark of their respect and trust in Optimus' judgement that they kept their silent guard behind him, the only sounds they made being the clicking of their tensing gun parts.

Megatron himself, however, was somewhat more vocal about this invitation.  
"If you really think it's over, Prime..." he growled, and suddenly his teeth were aglow in a fierce, primal sneer of fury.  
"...then you haven't seen ANYTHING yet!!!  
A deafening _whooooooosh_ sounded above their heads, and even before Optimus could direct his sensors skywards, Bumblebee's high, youthful and stunned voice gave a name to the booming uproar overheard –  
"Optimus, it's Starscream!!"  
Megatron had taken the advantage back – swinging a clenched fist directly into the side of Optimus' head, a blow that sent the Autobot reeling into the outer wall of a large coffeehouse, where the parked cars outside were promptly crushed and the building's front entrance caved in completely under his great weight, the people inside screaming and diving out of the way. Before he had time to recover, to even process the sudden turn of events and formulate a retaliation, three roaring, cataclysmic explosions detonated in a massive ball of fire and flying concrete behind him, where only moments before, the Autobots had stood.  
They had jumped away of Starscream's missile strike just in time, reverting back to their alternate forms and speeding clear, and Optimus saw through the haze of fire and smoke the smooth yellow shape of Bumblebee's 2005 Camaro, already swinging around to return to Optimus' side at top speed.

But the next attack that Prime expected never came; for as the F22 that concealed Starscream, first lieutenant of the Decepticons, rocketed clear overhead, he heard the squeals and the grinding of a transformation above him, and as he swung round he saw Megatron leap into the air, his transformation complete, into his Cybertronian jet form. And before Optimus could right himself, leap upwards and grab at his forked wing, Megatron shot forth in a blaze of propulsive flame, following the smoky trajectory left by Starscream out of New York city and high off into the sky, away from the trailing shots of the re-formed Autobots below, and away from the gaze of their sensors, out of their reach, completely.

The Autobots stood amongst the wreckage and devastation of Fifth Avenue for some time, staring up into the sky as though they almost expected the Decepticons to return to engage them once more. Even after several minutes passed and no such invitation to battle descended anew from the sky above, they did not cease to gaze upwards, reticent to drop their guards completely.  
It never boded well to let one's guard down with Megatron.  
Ratchet spoke first, and his voice was one of clipped, but not disrespectful, frustration.  
"We shan't catch him now, Prime. None of us have the capabilities to track them, much less follow them at those speeds."

Optimus Prime did not bring his gaze back downwards, a barely perceptible mutter of deep disappointment escaping his vocal processors. His hopes had not been high for Megatron's answer. After several millennia of conflict he had not expected the Decepticon leader's attitude to home rule to have changed so easily.  
But his brother's seemingly impenetrable lust for power, and blunt refusal to see how his actions were slowly killing the world around him, never failed to sting at Prime's mechanical heart.

"Any ideas where they plan to bury their stinking hides?" Jazz asked, of no-one in particular.  
"The human armed forces will be onto them by now." Ironhide muttered darkly, his cannons still primed and ready. "They'll be heading as far away as possible, to ensure that they can avoid being tracked or detected."  
"By now they're probably halfway to the Canadian mountain ranges." Bumblebee piped up, sounding equally disheartened, his tyres on his shoulder blades spinning in deep aggravation. He looked down from the sky, resigned to the escape they had failed to prevent –  
"Optimus." His statement was short, sharp, and his worried tone wrenched the optics of the other Autobots back down to earth to follow Bumblebee's eye line.  
An enormous squadron of police cars stormed down the street, swerving past the charred and battered corpses of other vehicles, flanking an even larger group of military tanks and ground vehicles, each one with their long, snub-nosed turrets pointed directly at the Autobot group, taking little interest in avoiding the carnage in the street and instead ploughing through the wreckage without pause. Prime quickly turned his head to the opposite end of the street, and saw an equally large fleet of vehicles barrelling down across the potholed concrete towards them.

Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Jazz, Ironhide and Bumblebee stood motionless as the pincer movement advanced towards them, each and every one of them hoping that their attempts to stop the destruction being wrought by Megatron and Starscream had not gone unnoticed by the authorities. They did not wish to fight their way out of this situation.

The small army of vehicles stopped some 50 yards short of the Autobots on either side. They remained still for some time, their guns silent and their sirens flashing noiselessly, and though the officers and troopers spilled forth from their cruisers and transports with arms ready and loaded, no guns pointed in the direction of the Autobots, and no attack was forthcoming.  
Then, quite abruptly, a thick, titanium door slid open with a loud _clang_ along the side of an armoured troop carrier, smoking billowing out of it in thin white plumes.  
Curiosity, not tense fear, held the Transformers now. Even Ironhide relaxed his arms, lowering his cannons to his side and slowly retracting them.

A foot emerged from the gloom within the door, clad in the polished designer shoes of some unidentified upscale brand. Shortly there followed a figure, smartly suited in palest purple and looking quite out of place amongst the stiffly uniformed army and police figures surrounding the man; a man with a military crew cut topping his dark-skinned, handsome features, marred only by a large black patch covering his left eye.  
He strode towards the Autobots, a palatable air of confident self-assurance virtually radiating off what was surely an ingratiating, welcoming smile. He never once faltered as he walked towards the Transformers, creatures never before seen on Earth, never once hesitated with uncertainty, pondering how best to proceed.  
But then again, this man was used to the more unusual sights in this world.  
He stopped in their midst, and smiled up at Optimus Prime as though the two were dear friends of old, and then sprang into a salute.

"Nick Fury, agent of SHIELD," he said, in a voice ringing with amused respect "at your service... Optimus Prime, is it?"

* * *

The Autobots exchange glances, bemused and relieved all at once.

And at the same time, miles and miles away in Westchester, NY, a very special group of mutants has convened around the television set in the plush, comfortable living room of the mansion they call home. The images they see are being broadcast live from a news crew who have ventured down a side alley not yet cordoned off by police, depicting in unfocused yet vivid close-up the towering forms of gigantic, intricately designed robots of all shapes and colours. Even through their stunned silence some of them share a brief chuckle at the sheer paranoid confusion that leaps from the screen in the form of the hastily-added news headline: "NEW SENTINEL MODEL GONE HAYWIRE?", but in short order they fall silent again, and Professor X and his students are glued to the slowly unfolding broadcast...

...and further away still, this time as far away as the opposite coast of the United States, an honorary SHIELD member is seated on the leather couch he has dragged into one corner of his vast garage workshop, watching the same events unfold on his absurdly expensive television. And as Tony Stark tinkers absently minded with a great scarlet glove composed entirely of hyper-advanced mechanical parts, he is staring intently at the fractured images upon the screen, of Nick Fury striding forth to greet the enormous creatures, of them shifting and changing before his own eyes from sports cars and pick-ups into the massive robotic forms he sees now.  
Tony Stark, known to a select few as Iron Man, is enthralled by what he sees on that screen.

So is everyone else who tunes in at this moment in time, all across the world.

The Transformers have arrived.

* * *

AUTHORS NOTES: My my, I think I'm developing a taste for pure action stories already!

As you may have noticed, initial motivations for the Autobots and the Decepticons have both been established - where they go from here will be quite a surprise, so stay tuned good people! In short order, the next chapter will be dealing with the involvement of the X-Men, Iron Man and SHIELD in the Transformers agendas - while the Transformers are the definite stars of the show here, the part of all the above characters will still be an important one to play.

Once again, my hailz to you all - opinions on the writing above are of course always welcome and gratefully received whatever they may contain. Drop a review anytime good Fan Fic lovers, stay well!


	3. Chapter Two: Quid Pro Quo

**Chapter Two: Quid Pro Quo**

"_...at the present time details are scarce as to the origin of the creatures depicted in these images, and members of the press were barred from filming them departing the scene of the attack on Fifth Avenue .No explanation has yet been issued for their mysterious departure from the city; however several eyewitness reports have stated that the alien beings "transformed" into vehicles prior to the closure and cordoning-off of the attack site. Several of the models bore a reported resemblance to several General Motors models – the motoring conglomerate offered a perplexed statement denying any involvement in the event..."_

"Y'know, that's certainly an interesting point they raise there. Just how exactly have almost all of you managed to pick out GMC cars for your 'alternate forms,' as you call them?"

Optimus looked down at the figure of Colonel Fury far below him, a creature so small he stood no higher than his own ankle pistons, with a look that was as close an approximation to quizzicality that a Transformers' facial components could achieve. So long as the disguises they scanned and grafted over their protoforms were accurate and convincing after landing, this was not a matter that concerned him very much.  
"Perils of landin' near a GM dealership I guess." Jazz replied for him across the hangar, sounding amused.

Some four hours after the Earth authorities had separated and shepherded the Autobots away from the steadily growing crowds around Fifth Avenue (with maintaining a semblance of order proving surprisingly easy so long as they remained in their vehicular modes), the group now found themselves convened together in a massive SHIELD-operated aeroplane hangar, hastily emptied of several F-22 Raptor planes (which Ironhide had appraised more than a little suspiciously) for their own use.  
The hangar, towering high enough that even Optimus could stride through it comfortably, was sealed shut from any prying eyes outside, and the softening light from the setting summer sun outside was now replaced by the harsh, glaring lamps set into the ceiling.  
In front of the far-most wall was a makeshift conference table, hastily moved into the hangar for the benefit of the fourteen SHIELD officials who had arrived for Prime's debriefing. Several widescreen computer monitors had been set up on the tabletop, and the latest news broadcasts, filtered by one of the SHIELD operatives working in the room to focus on the battle, were being streamed continuously.

Seated at the tables' centre was the haughty, weathered figure of General Thaddeus Ross, nicknamed 'Thunderbolt' for reasons he had himself long since ceased caring for. He stared nearly unblinkingly at the towering robotic forms before him, listening with quiet blankness that hid a certain unarticulated fascination for this whole turn of events, only hinted at by the twitching of his heavily whitening moustache. He said nothing, however – at this early stage it was best to hear these creatures speak of their intentions before taking action.

On Ross' immediate left was Fury, leaning forward with his hands folded and an expression of barely concealed irreverence on his dark features, listening just as intently to the words of the Autobots. The other officers, men and women of varying ranks and authorities, were seated along the rest of the table, their faces arranged into expressions of polite attentiveness that sometimes belied a rather bitter distaste for this whole affair. Many of them had grown sick of giant robots within five minutes of that absurd Sentinel initiative coming into play, but they too held their tongues for the moment.

The Autobots themselves were scattered across the hangar, making no real attempt at formality. Ironhide and Bumblebee were leaning against a far wall, keeping silent, while Ratchet was focusing only his audio receptors on the conversation, the rest of his sensors distracted by the humans and their technology below him, keeping a curious analytical optic on them at all times. Jazz was 'seated', legs crossed atop a large cargo crate; the stainless steel had buckled somewhat under his weight to the general irritation of the officers, the Autobots' embarrassment and Colonel Fury's own private amusement. Optimus however kept his usual poise, addressing the table before him with his enormous arms folded behind his fortified back.

He had been briefing the SHIELD commanders before him for 20 minutes now, regarding virtually everything. Prime saw little logical point in keeping any information from this organisation, whose position as this world's top-ranking threat prevention force was surely conducive to an Autobot recovery of the Allspark. The idea that they, of all people, would be unable to provide information on it seemed highly improbable.  
He had already explained the processes of transformation to the thoroughly startled commanders, their disbelief only truly swept away when the Autobots had shifted between their robotic forms to their disguises together. Prime suspected that more than one of his team had been highly amused by the shock in all the eyes trained upon them when they morphed back again in a series of whirs and clicks and grinding, suddenly towering high above their heads and speaking in perfect English – which had been downloaded in a variety of dialects and tones from the avalanche of information uncovered by remote access to the Internet, that had in turn nearly overloaded Ratchet's circuits on the first connection due to the sheer volume of it all.

He told them, in graver tones, of far more important problems.

He told them all he knew of Megatron's intentions; detailing in a slow, rumbling oration, the plans the Decepticon leader had for attaining the All-spark, the artefact capable of granting autonomous life to any mechanical object its energy was applied to. He spoke sombrely of the war; the war between the Autobot and Decepticon factions that had raged since before humanity was even a glint in nature's eye, and that Megatron's millennia-long search for the Allspark would grant him complete hegemonic power over their home world Cybertron if he discovered it here on Earth. He warned solemnly that if this came to pass, all life on Earth and the planet itself would be extinguished as the Decepticons converted the planet's technology into the ranks of their new army, and would eventually spread out across the entirety of the known galaxy, on a mission of endless conquest.

He observed their faces, shifting between fascination and incredulity, as he spoke, for the most part disregarding the barely concealed snorts of disbelief he caught now and then. SHIELD's assistance with the Autobot mission here would indeed be helpful to them, but ultimately their involvement was not essential. The Autobots would scour the planet to find the Allspark, with or without the help of the humans; that he had resolved long before they had arrived here.

He finished speaking, closing his long dialogue with that same statement of intent, though phrased in a perhaps more 'polite' fashion. Keeping his hand folded and his posture straight he gazed silently at the conference table, sensing the Autobots behind him become somewhat more alert now that the response to their situation had to be heard.  
The men and women below studied the Autobot leader's features for several moments before beginning to confer amongst themselves in terse mutters. Ross and Fury were leaning in to each other closely, talking in what seemed to rapid whispers, and the other officials did likewise, leaning across one another to exchange thoughts. Occasionally they shot looks at the silently waiting Transformers, and Optimus briefly considered enhancing his own audio receptors by several decibels, to better follow the general direction of the discussion down below.  
He decided against it. Prime may have been intent on discovering the Allspark as quickly as possible, but that hardly called for all his courtesy protocols to be discarded. To be outright rude to anyone was simply not in the nature of his programming.

The uniformed commanders finished their whispered conversations amongst one another, settling back down into their seats and into silence once more. Several of them looked even more put-out by the turn of the conversation – whilst others looked distinctly satisfied with it. Fury himself was not even trying to conceal his wry smile.  
General Ross spoke first. Not only that, he even rose out of his chair to stand erect and respectful before the Transformers (Prime distinctly heard a chuckle of amusement drift from Ratchet's vocalization unit at the earnest gesture of such a diminutive creature).

"Well, Optimus Prime," he said, in the measured tone of a professional diplomatist, "I think thanks are in order myself."  
He snapped to a brief salute, stiff and rigid. At least one set of lips across the table curled nearly imperceptibly, while at least two heads nodded slightly in approval.

"We cannot thank you enough for the efforts you undertook to stop Megatron upon your arrival in New York. From what you've told us regarding their capabilities, my confidence in the effectiveness of our defences going alone against them isn't exactly strong. Based upon the data we've received on Megatron and Starscream since their arrival, it would seem that only our most powerful and unwieldy equipment is going to work against them, at least for the moment."  
He paused, his moustache quivering slightly.  
"You and your team however, seem to be more than capable of taking them on – that was quite the impressive display on Fifth, I must admit."  
He paused again, perhaps expecting Optimus to nod his appreciation of the compliment, but the Autobot said nothing, waiting for the General to continue. Behind him, Bumblebee fidgeted sheepishly, and Jazz did not even conceal his grin at the flattery.

Ross continued, apparently unflustered; "If what you've told us about the Decepticon threat is true, however, then it leads us to believe that they are likely to strike again. And there's no way in hell I intend to let them wreak the kind of havoc we saw in New York today for a second time. We are doing our best to adapt our own systems to fight them again, wherever they may show their ugly faces again, but frankly, we're not gonna do a damn bit of good without your help."  
"What is it exactly that you're suggesting, General Ross?" Ratchet asked, a slight note of impatience in his voice that was silenced swiftly by a disapproving glare from Optimus. His medical officer was becoming more and more of a burden to him in situations such as this – Ratchet had little talent for courtesy.

Ross looked up at the pale yellow Transformer for only a few moments, his face rather unpleasantly tight-lipped, before he turned back to Prime once again and spoke in a somewhat shorter tone.  
"I'm suggesting that if we are to combat this menace we are going to need your help. In other words Optimus, Autobots," he nodded in the general directions of the other Transformers; "we would like to offer you honorary membership in SHIELD, effective immediately."

Optimus allowed a slight twinge of intrigue to cross his mechanical face. Things seemed to be turning out in their favour after all.  
"And what exactly would that entail, General?" He asked.

"It would mean SHIELD would offer you all the support you'd ever need in your search for the Allspark," Nick Fury chimed in from next to Ross, "and in your goal of taking down Megatron and Starscream. In other words, our forces will be there to back you up in another firefight, should things come to that again. Consider our big guns your big guns, Optimus."

Ironhide did his best to conceal a smile of delight at these words, and the other Transformers seemed equally heartened.

"However..." Ross began, and several small, harsh creases appeared on his brow, and he looked tone became slower and more deliberate, "that's quite a generous favour. And we would need more than a little something in return, I'm afraid."  
It was the Autobots turn to exchange glances now. None of them, however, looked particularly divided by the conversation as the SHIELD officials had apparently been – awkward discomfort marked all their features together. Even Optimus himself looked disappointed. He did not care for allies who came with stipulations.  
"You have to understand that here today, we're making little short of first official contact with an alien species. Given the clarity of your explanations, your obvious willingness to defend human territories from these invaders and of course, the urgency of your mission, we can overlook the usual formalities planned for such an occasion and offer what help we can. But nonetheless, today marks a great occasion in human and off-world relations, and we would wish for the Autobots, following the elimination of the Decepticon threat, to work more closely with SHIELD defence operations so we can..." he paused for only a split second, "_learn_ about you and your species more personably."

He looked up at Prime, and when the Autobot leader said nothing, the General added: "I'm afraid that's how it has to be, Optimus. You have, after all, exhibited extraordinary military power today, far beyond what any human armed force is capable of today. We can help you, but in return, we'll need you to work for us too."

Prime only considered the General's words for a few moments before he spoke again, in a voice made almost monotonous by the constant repetition of his next words, despite his best efforts to remain polite. He had said this to many other governing bodies and military figures on many planets and worlds for some time now, and he was growing a little weary of it.

"I'm afraid not, General Ross."  
There was a buzz of murmurs from the table – some, like Fury, looked surprised, some raised their eyebrows in a knowing fashion, and Ross himself looked momentarily offended. Prime carried on anyway.  
"Our mission is our own, and while we would have appreciated your help, I'm afraid the Autobots cannot accept that help if it would require us to operate under an alien jurisdiction. When we recover the Allspark, if it is even here, we will have to return to Cybertron, to restore our homeworld to the glory it once knew. Our concerns are our own, and we must keep human affairs distinct from Cybertronian affairs as much as we possibly can."  
He stopped for a moment to assess their reactions. Fury's face had become a touch more impassive, but he did not seem particularly downbeat, and a trace of a smile still oddly lingered on his face. Frank disappointment and indignation was on the faces of the other commanders, including Ross, who appeared to be chewing his own tongue in irritation. Prime sighed slowly.  
"Optimus, do you really think you can get through this without SHIELD and the United States Military? Do you think you can take on this menace all by yourself without causing even more collateral damage, is that it?" Ross barked, rather loudly.

"I'm afraid that's how it has to be, General." he said, echoing the moustached man far below him. "We are not here to become SHIELD conscripts. Nonetheless, your offer does not go unacknowledged, and we thank you deeply for it."

The other Autobots now rose and made to depart the hangar, Bumblebee's transformable components already twitching in preparation for leaving. By now it had grown entirely dark outside, the pale glint of the moon high above far outmatched by the fantastic glare of the base spotlights below.  
None of them seemed to be too fazed by what had transpired, and Optimus felt a small spark of pride – with or without back-up, his troops would fight to the end regardless. For that he could be thankful.  
"Autobots, transform and roll-"  
"Hey now, hold up a second there!" a voice from behind him rang out through the hangar.

The Autobots looked around (Bumblebee quickly reversed his already half completed alteration and looked down in embarrassment at Ironhide's guffawing), and now Nick Fury was on his feet behind the long conference table, looking up at the Transformers.  
"Believe me, we understand your, if you'll pardon the choice of phrase, _foreign policy_, Optimus," he said, his one good eye fixed directly upon Prime's face in a look of utmost sincerity, "But we simply cannot allow you to take on the Decepticons on your own terms and without help, because there is going to be even worse hell let loose if we let that happen."  
Jazz asked, calm and patient, "So what do YOU propose, Colonel Fury?"

Fury's mouth twitched in a slight smile.

"I'm saying that while you may be reticent about joining SHIELD officially, we can still provide you with some good back-up forces. The very best, in fact. Recently we've had a new group from upstate join our merry band, and considering their performance in defending humanity against the Sentinels not long ago... and if you don't mind the sentiment, I think they'll do just fine with taking on a brand new batch of giant robots."  
He brought one hand up to slowly stroke at the black stubble on his chin. At either side of him, Ross and the other commanders, even those who had previously gazed at the Autobots with such cynicism and disdain, were looking from Fury to each other with expressions of pleasant realization all over their faces.

Prime, for his part, was a little more prepared to listen to this particular bargain.  
"And the name of this organisation, Colonel Fury?" he asked.

Fury's smile widened even further.

"They're called the X-Men, Optimus, and I'd be more than happy to arrange a meeting for you."

* * *

"Certainly Colonel Fury – we've been keeping firmly abreast of the events on the national news broadcasts of course, but it is good to hear some modicum of sense being spoken in regard to these 'Transformers' at last. I must say, I am honoured that SHIELD have placed this faith in my X-Men," Professor Xavier said, speaking towards the Danger Room monitor displaying the face of Nick Fury, who was smiling pleasantly up at him, "and very thankful that our expertise in combating the Sentinels has helped you judge us as best suited for this assignment. I've already informed my students of the situation, and I know they are looking forward to the meeting."

"_Glad to hear that. We're thankful to you as well, Professor. I'm afraid I'm going to have to wrap up this message for the moment; we'll be departing our facility shortly, and we can be at the mansion in Westchester within an hour so you can meet the Autobots in person_." Fury said, the monitor reception crackling slightly.

"I look forward to it a great deal, Colonel, we will be there to greet you in due order."

"_You and me both, Professor - thank you for your co-operation in this matter. SHIELD out._" Fury's image flickered momentarily, faded to buzzing static, then the monitor ceased the transmission completely.

Charles Xavier, dressed in the casual, loose clothing he had grown accustomed to in the last few weeks, settled back into the comfortable, red-velvet cushions of his wheelchair, mulling Fury's message over in his mind. His bald palette reflected the dimmed artificial lights of the rotund Danger Room, and the banks of highly advanced supercomputers lining the walls cast a blueish tint across the Professor's kind, firm features.  
The room was silent besides the patter of tiny paws – Mystique the tabby cat sauntered in through the wide entrance room, leapt quietly onto Xavier's knee and curled up in his lap. He scratched behind the cat's pointed ears gently; she purred in soft contentment and did not move even when Xavier gave his chair the slightest of telekinetic nudges, and it swung slowly round and out of the door of its own accord.

"So how'd it go, Professor?" said a gruff voice a short way down the hall, "SHIELD got us running their errands and lookin' after these Transformer freaks now?"  
Wolverine was leaning against the polished and buffed oak wall of the school corridor, watching Xavier move towards him up the plush carpet. His muscled arms were folded tight together through his white shirt and a cowboy hat was perched rakishly on top of his thick black hair, a cigar clamped tightly between his lips. Xavier suppressed an affectionate chuckle – Wolverine never had managed to pull off the cowboy look quite right.

"Well you're partially right about that, Logan. We are indeed expecting guests tonight, of a very special nature. I'm surprised you and the other students aren't more excited by this – the prospect of being the first mutants to encounter creatures from another world!" There was an all-too-familiar gleam of excitement in the Professor's eyes now. "We're surely making history tonight."

Wolverine snorted, his derision tempered somewhat by his respect for the man before him, being wheeled along by no visible force or person.  
"Yeah, you got me there Professor – I mean, how many chances is a grown man gonna get to shake the hand of a giant alien robot that calls itself _Bumblebee_? That's a one-in-a-million thing there, bub."  
He smirked, puffing heavily on his cigar, and now Xavier really did laugh, richly and heartily.  
"Too true Wolverine, too true indeed. Shall we go in and have the students prepare for their arrival?"

"Sure, why not? I'm dyin' to see how fast Cyclops will pee himself when he meets a new group of robots that could crush him with one blow!"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES: After the lovely splashes of flowing action on the previous chapter, I've applied the brakes a little bit here, just to allow you to contextualize the information you've received thus far and see where I'm heading with these much-beloved characters. This particular chapter took quite a bit of work - I've recently begun an overhaul of my writing style, doing my best to banish my all-too-overt obsession with wordiness whilst trying to remain faithful to the description heavy style I've become accustomed to. Doing this in the middle of setting up multiple characters, personalities and scenarios was damned difficult, but perseverance is always the key!

The next chapter I'm REALLY looking forward to getting down on paper - Megatron and Starscream will briefly take centre stage, and a little more will be revealed about their intentions on planet Earth!

To anyone reading this, I sincerely hope you like what you see - be sure to drop a review anytime, all criticism and opinions are welcome! Hailz to y'all!


	4. Chapter Three: Concealed Intent

**Chapter Three: Concealed Intent**

Somewhere far north of these discussions and diplomatic relations, away from all densely populated areas and deep below a towering mountain within its network of gigantic, hidden caves, there was another debate being held. One of a far less civil nature.

Rain lashed harshly down upon the unnamed mountain, from its top to its wide and barren base. Some of the rain was leaking through that base, down through the cracks and crevices in the rocks and the minerals in the ground, further and further down into one of those enormous caves, where they fell upon the heads of the alien debaters.

Decepticon leader Megatron strode up and down the cavernous space, ignoring the miniscule drips of water from the stalactites above as they plinked ineffectually against the steel of his pointed silver battle helmet. His pacing was stiff with suppressed anger, as though his joints had rusted over. His claw-like hands clenched and unclenched behind his back with metallic scraping sounds, as fury at his humiliation back in New York coursed through his processing circuits. Optimus would pay for that. That and then some, the Autobot and his band of followers would pay. That he was certain of, and it seemed to do something to assuage his violent temper.

Unfortunately, his lieutenant was doing the exact opposite.  
Starscream was stood a supposedly respectful distance away from his leader, his great triangular chassis bent slightly in a posture of fawning servility, which was flatly contradicted by the sneering tone he had employed thus far. He was swatting his long, pointed fingers at the places the water dripped onto his frame, and even that twitch irked Megatron – that such a narcissistic gesture was even built into a Decepticon's programming confounded him completely.

Megatron stopped and stared at the high cave wall of his hiding place, the ragged cracks lining it thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the halogen bulbs strewn, somewhat haphazardly, across the rock floor. Scurrying between the lights down below, his shadow dancing eerily across the walls, was Frenzy, the miniscule information retrieval unit Starscream had brought along prior to their departure from Cybertron.  
The tiny, insectoid frame of the Decepticon was shining with the reflected light from the bulbs, and he was skittering about, on all fours and in a walking handstand, occasionally shifting into his disguise as a human stereophonic system and back again, simply because he had nothing better to do. Now and again he glanced upwards at the two enormous Decepticons above him, and sometimes hopping out of the way when an enormous metal foot stomped a little too close to him.

Starscream spoke again, guessing that his master had not heard him the previous time, and Megatron's fury amped up several notches just to hear the slime oozing out of his voice.  
"Frenzy produced no results from the hack he performed in the NYPD database, Lord Megatron – I can only assume that the human police forces in that sector do not have access to such data from their own computer terminals."

Megatron ground his rusted teeth together silently, stung by that humiliating error in judgement. How was he to know the human insect's information systems were not interconnected to that degree?

"Might I suggest, Master, that we postpone any other planned incursions into human territory for the time being? If Frenzy is up the task I can send him out with another Pretender drone, to see if he might have a little more success in one of the restricted locations he was able to pinp..."  
Starscream's vocorders never did manage to articulate the remainder of that sentence; within seconds, Megatron's fury had reached a searing, sparking pinnacle, and he swung around in a blur of shining chrome, grabbing Starscream's neck with brutal force and pinning him to the wall so violently that the wall of the cave shook with a deafening _CRACK_.

"Do you know," Megatron growled in a slow and horribly dangerous fashion, as his lackey flailed feebly at the claws around his neck, "just how much of a snivelling little coward you are, Starscream?"  
His grip tightened even more, and his claws scraped across the steel of Starscream's neck with an awful, piercing shriek. The Decepticon lieutenant said nothing but made small, panicked noises, seeking only to extricate himself from this pincer hold.  
"We will not stay hidden in the shadows, hoping that sneaking around as you suggest will lead us to the Allspark. We have no reason to hide ourselves from these pathetic insects as we look for it!"  
He released Starscream, who slid down onto the rock-strewn floor of the cave with a crash, and within moments was pressing his own hands against his neck, vainly hoping that Megatron had not left any lasting scars upon his framework.

"My lord, I meant no... insinuation against you!" he remonstrated feebly. "I merely felt that, with Your Lordship and myself being the only Decepticon military forces on the planet at present, subterfuge would be a wise decision for a leader of your stature, until we can gather further strength!"

Megatron resumed his own pacing, but the anger in his voice did not lessen.  
"What good would a general like that be, showing such weakness, in the fight that we have ahead of us back on Cybertron? I am Megatron, and I will display the strength and power that I have always done, Starscream. I will not be made to cower here! We will show the Autobots and the miserable human forces our true might soon enough!"  
He turned, glaring down at his prostrate lackey. Without warning, he launched a kick at Starscream, his armoured foot impacting directly with his jet-nosed chest plate. With a cry of humiliated pain, Starscream toppled over in a thunderous crash of flying dust and stone.

"We will find the Allspark, and we _will _save Cybertron from the horror that threatens it. Do you understand, you wretch?"

Starscream did not raise his head as he struggled back into his kneeling posture.  
"I... understand, Lord Megatron," he mumbled, trying his best to keep his shaking voice even.

"We will prepare for a secondary assault in due order, Starscream. I advise you to rest and recharge now, because soon enough we will face Optimus and his pitiful band again. I expect you to bring me their heads. Provide Frenzy and a Pretender drone with instructions to infiltrate and hack into the systems in one of the restricted locales he managed to locate... perhaps 'The Pentagon' as the humans call it."  
He snorted imperiously.  
"We, meanwhile, will level the building once he sends confirmation of the download to help him escape. The Pretender does not matter."

He began to slowly stride towards the tunnel at the cave mouth, to the larger series of caverns he had taken for himself as temporary quarters. Stopping momentarily, he snarled a final order to his prone second-in-command.  
"You will also relay a message to Soundwave for Brawl, Blackout, and all other available Decepticon troops to converge upon our location as soon as possible. Perhaps that comforts you somewhat?" he jeered.  
"Ensure that they select powerful protoforms, Starscream. We will show the Autobots just what the Decepticons are capable of."

He paused for a long moment. And then, almost to himself, he muttered,  
"The Allspark shall save our world from that overblown, pompous tyrant. It will happen. I will MAKE it happen."  
Megatron swung around, and strode away out of the cavern.

* * *

Starscream remained in that same posture for some time after Megatron's thundering footsteps had ceased and the cave had lapsed into silence, except for the steady tinkling _plink, plink, plink_ of the droplets falling from the craggy ceiling.

He did not move for the longest time, allowing the shame and embarrassment from Megatron's abuse fade from his neural processors, replaced by plots and plans of his own. He was predisposed to do this a great deal of late, what with the disgraceful errors in judgement the supposed Supreme Decepticon had made time and again in this pursuit of the Allspark.  
Starscream did not allow his processors to linger upon these thoughts for long. And in short order, he rose from his kneeling posture, and with one final glance down the black tunnel, he turned to relay his instructions to Frenzy.

The tiny robot stopped his skittering, coming to rest upon the top of a stalagmite that rose almost as high as Starscream's head.

He sat there, very still, and he absorbed intently what Starscream had to say.

* * *

Here we are, my good people - a new chapter on Tomorrow Worlds United!

My apologies to any and all readers for my laziness in updating, and thank you for sticking with this story if you happened to enjoy it. This chapter is significantly shorter than originally intended, and was initially going to include our first look at the Autobots and the X-Men working together, but I decided to divide the two parts of the chapter up (I'm already well into the process of the next chapter).

Thank you once again if you've read and enjoyed this piece, and extra special hailz to anyone who drops a review!


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